Look Me Up
by Erin Kaye Hashet
Summary: Not all of Dawn's boyfriends were bad news. A Chino story.


**Title:** Look Me Up

**Author:** Erin Kaye Hashet

**Rating:** PG-13

**Feedback:** EKHashet at hotmail dot com

**Spoilers:** None

**Archive:** Anywhere, just let me know.

**Summary:** Not all of Dawn's boyfriends were bad news. A Chino story.

**Disclaimer:** Now that the show's over, can I have them, Josh?

**Author's Notes:** I'd forgotten until recently that when Ryan was running away in "The Model Home," he was going to find his mother's ex-boyfriend. So while we know that Dawn obviously had lousy taste in men, we also know she had at least one boyfriend whom Ryan liked. I figured that had to be a story worth telling. And I'm fairly new to this, so I apologize if something similar's already been done.

Look Me Up

by Erin Kaye Hashet

His mom met Ray in, of all places, the emergency room, and for once, she wasn't there because she'd been beaten up or had an accident while drunk. Three days after Ryan finished eighth grade, Dawn had been washing dishes and had forgotten about the large knife lying underneath the soap suds, and had cut her hand badly enough to need stitches. A strange meeting place, but a normal injury. When he thought about it later, Ryan often noted that it was the start of what could conceivably have been a normal relationship.

Ray had been taking his mother to the hospital. She had heart problems, he told Dawn. He'd grown up in Chino but had been living in Austin for years, and he'd recently moved back to take care of his mother.

A touching story, Ryan scoffed when Dawn told him, but not out loud. He was fourteen, and cynicism was moving into the room in his heart once occupied by hope. There were certain things about which he couldn't help but retain a shred of optimism—that he'd be strong enough to win a fight someday, that Trey, who was eighteen and had just moved out, would come back. But he'd long since accepted that his mother had lousy taste in men, and that was never going to change.

He rolled his eyes behind the magazine he was reading as he lay on the couch listening to Dawn blabber on about how great Ray was, how kind, how well he treated her. _Yeah, that'll last_, he thought, putting more energy than necessary into flipping a page. _Wait 'til he's drunk or on drugs. See how well he treats you then_.

"Ray's coming over tonight," Dawn called from the kitchen, where she was pouring herself another drink. Ryan barely registered that sentence, having stopped paying attention once Dawn had said something almost identical to one of her initial comments about Jack, the guy who'd left her with two black eyes. But the next thing she said gave Ryan pause.

"He wants to meet you."

Ryan blinked. He lowered the magazine. "What?"

"He's heard me talk about you. He wants to meet you."

Ryan raised his eyebrows. "Ookay…" he said, not quite sure what to make of that. The guy wanted to meet him? Most of Dawn's boyfriends had wanted as little contact with him and Trey as possible. If they weren't coked up and punching Ryan in the face, they were ignoring him completely. No man wanted to date a woman with kids. So what was this Ray guy's deal? _Probably a child molester_, Ryan thought. _That's just great. My mom's reached a new low_.

"I've invited him over for dinner tonight," Dawn said. "He's looking forward to meeting you then.

Ryan threw his mother a skeptical look. "Dinner? You're _cooking_?"

"Baked macaroni and cheese," she said defensively. "You eat that when I make it."

Ryan rolled his eyes. "Not exactly great having-company food."

"Ray likes baked macaroni and cheese. He doesn't mind."

_He doesn't mind having a woman to cook for him_, Ryan didn't say.

He was still lying on the couch, this time watching baseball, when he heard the doorbell ring and his mother greeting Ray. Ryan concentrated on the game and tried not to listen to the stream of conversation. He didn't move an inch until he heard Dawn call, "Ryan, hon? Come out here and meet Ray."

Ryan exhaled slowly and dragged himself off the couch. He looked the man standing in the doorway up and down. Ray was clean-shaven with a badly receding hairline and an open, somber face. He wasn't much taller than Ryan, which was surprising. Dawn usually preferred tall, burly men—men who, Ryan supposed, she thought would protect her but who usually just ended up hurting her.

"Ryan," said Ray, with a smile that, though sincere, didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm glad to meet you." He extended his hand, which Ryan shook wordlessly. "Your mom's told me so much about you."

"Oh," said Ryan, after waiting just long enough so that the syllable sounded awkward. "Nice…to meet you, too."

His cynical side wanted to find something wrong with Ray, but, as he and his mother sat down for dinner, Ryan had to admit to himself that Ray was looking pretty good so far.

"So," Ray said as they helped themselves to the macaroni and cheese, "you starting high school in the fall?"

Ryan nodded, grateful that his mouth was full, thus preventing him from saying more.

"Your mom tells me you're smart," said Ray.

"Too smart to be getting the grades he's getting," Dawn said. "If he'd just work a little harder."

Ray chewed his mac and cheese and looked at Ryan carefully, in a way that came off as thoughtful where it would have looked creepy on anyone else. "What are you doing this summer?" he asked.

As Ryan was mid-shrug, his mother snapped, "Sitting on his ass, that's what he's doing. Look where that got his brother."

Ray wiped his mouth carefully. "Well," he said, "you ever want a job, give me a call. The construction company I work for is hiring."

Ryan didn't know what to say. He'd only been fourteen for a few months, and it hadn't occurred to him that anyone might want to hire him. "Okay," he said.

As Ray was leaving that evening, he extended his hand for Ryan to shake. "Nice to meet you," he said, and as Ryan shook, he felt something in his palm. He looked down and saw a card with the logo of a local construction company on it. He found a phone number written in pen on the back.

"My cell," said Ray. "If you want that job, give me a ring."

Ryan stared at the card. Was still staring at it days later, unable to explain why he hadn't just thrown it out. He knew, rationally, that he shouldn't trust any of his mom's boyfriends after everything that had happened with them in the past, knowing Dawn's taste in men. But he had a strange feeling about Ray, a feeling that defied all logic. It was a feeling that he would recognize a year later, when another man gave him a card with a phone number on it. He felt like things would be different, like something would change if he picked up the phone and dialed.

So he did.

The next day, after Dawn had left for work at her latest job, at the doughnut shop, Ray's truck pulled into the driveway. Ryan hesitated only a moment before opening the front door and heading to the driveway.

Ray kept trying to ask him questions on the way to the construction site—what was his favorite subject in school, did he play any sports. Still mindful that Ray could, in fact, turn out to be a child molester, Ryan kept his answers to "math" and "no." He'd played baseball when he was little, and later soccer, but lately they hadn't had the money for either.

A new housing development was being built at the site. Ryan followed Ray into the construction office. "How old are you?" Ray asked him.

"Fourteen."

"If you say you're sixteen," Ray said, his voice dropping a notch, "you can work more hours."

He followed Ray's advice, figuring he could use all the money he could get, and filled out his forms after being told he'd start the following Monday.

"Want to get lunch?" Ray asked him as they headed back to the car. "My treat."

Ryan shrugged.

"Okay," said Ray, apparently taking that as a yes. "Where to?"

Ryan shrugged again, but this time he spoke as well. "Diner downtown?" That place was cheap, at least.

"Sure thing," said Ray.

They sat down in a booth when they got to the diner, and Ryan started playing with his silverware. He still didn't completely trust Ray. He wasn't used to talking with his mom's boyfriends, at least beyond yelling at them for hitting Dawn.

"Now, I haven't met Trey," said Ray as he opened his menu. "How old is he again?"

"Eighteen."

"Eighteen," Ray repeated. "My son's about that age."

Ryan looked up, surprised. "You have a son?"

"Yeah," said Ray, his voice dark. "Haven't seen him in years."

"Oh," said Ryan. "I'm…sorry."

"My own damn fault," said Ray. "I went to prison for selling drugs."

It wasn't just the statement, or its suddenness, but Ray's tone—neither blunt nor casual, just serious—that caused Ryan's eyes to bug out. Ray noticed.

"It's true," he said. "I wish I hadn't been so stupid, but you can't change the past. And it's cost me my son. His mother won't let him see me and I'm not sure he wants to anyway."

"I'm sorry," said Ryan. He had the strange sense that he should be uncomfortable in this situation, but what he felt was quite the opposite. He was shocked to hear the next words coming out of his own mouth. "You should tell that to my brother."

Immediately he felt his face flush. He hadn't been talking about Trey much lately. Trey had been charged with marijuana possession last year and had just narrowly escaped a deserved intent-to-distribute charge. Ryan's loyalty towards Trey had always been tinged with a mix of younger-brotherly respect and disdain, but lately there had been more of the latter.

Ray set the menu down. "Your mom said he moved out a little while ago."

"Yeah," said Ryan. "He has an apartment with a couple of his friends." _God only knows how he's paying for it. _

"You miss him?"

Ryan shrugged, embarrassed. "Sometimes," he said, although the answer was a decided "yes." The truth was that he felt vulnerable without Trey around. As stupid and reckless as Trey could sometimes be, Ryan knew his brother would do anything to protect him.

Perhaps sensing Ryan's discomfort, Ray changed the subject. "You seeing anyone? Any girlfriends?"

"Uh…" said Ryan. "Sort of." He wasn't quite sure what to call Theresa. They weren't referring to each other as boyfriend and girlfriend, and when they weren't hooking up, they acted more like friends than anything else. But he wasn't hooking up with anyone else and he was pretty sure she wasn't, either.

The waiter came to the table. "Can I start you off with anything to drink?"

Ryan studied the menu. "I'll have, uh, a Coke," he said.

"Same here," said Ray. As the waiter left to get the drinks, he added, "I don't drink alcohol anymore. Too many bad experiences with drunk people."

Ryan stared at him for a minute, and, with shock, realized that he believed Ray.

He didn't want to admit it, but his hopes about Ray were up.

The day before he started the construction job, Ryan went by Trey's apartment.

"You should call Mom once in awhile," he said. "Believe it or not, she does want to know you're still alive."

Trey rolled his eyes. "Yeah, okay," he said, "maybe when I can afford to pay the phone bill."

Ryan rolled his eyes. He had a feeling that at this point, Trey's main source of income came from selling drugs. Apparently, business wasn't booming.

"You still seeing Theresa?" Trey asked him.

"Kind of."

"Kind of?!" Trey glanced over his shoulder and lowered his voice. "Theresa's even hotter than she used to be. If I wasn't living with her brother I'd be fucking her brains out."

"Don't say that!" said Ryan, louder than he'd meant to. He hated it when Trey said things like that. It was a side of his brother he didn't like to think about.

Trey shrugged, not entirely unapologetically. "Just saying, not an opportunity I'd waste."

Ryan sighed and changed the subject. "Mom's got a new boyfriend."

Trey threw him a sympathetic look. "Well, if you need a place to crash…"

"No," said Ryan. "He's…not a bad guy."

Trey snorted.

"No, really," said Ryan. "He's…nice."

His brother let out a snicker. "When has Dawn ever even _looked_ at anyone who wasn't an asshole?"

"Yeah, I know," said Ryan, "but this guy really is different, I think. He got me a job working construction."

Trey looked at him in disbelief, then started laughing. "You're working construction? You?"

"Yes," said Ryan, annoyed. Trey was fond of acting like Ryan was a lot younger and smaller than he actually was.

Trey shook his head with a smile. "Well, good luck with that," he said. "And if you're wrong about this dude, like I said, you can crash here."

Ryan remembered the look Trey had given him when he said he was working construction, and he felt just as small looking up at the massive housing developments going up before him on his first day.

But he didn't feel that way for long. No one there cared about his age or his size, just that they had another set of hands to do the work. He caught onto things quickly, and before long he was letting his mind wander. He'd never really thought before about what went into making a house, and he found himself thinking about how he would put a house together. What he would have done differently on his own house. Thinking, for the first time, about a life beyond high school.

Once, during their lunch break, he found Ray inside the trailer studying the floor plans. Ray glanced up and saw Ryan watching him. "You want to take a look?" he asked. Ryan went over and looked them up and down, noting the details.

"Interesting, isn't it?" Ray said. "I used to want to be an architect." He smiled, the same eye-less smile he'd given Ryan the day they'd met. "Not a job particularly open to ex-cons with no college education. I'm just lucky I got this place to hire me."

As Ryan went on looking at the floor plans, Ray stepped outside and lit up a cigarette. A minute later, Ryan followed him and did the same. Ray turned his head toward him. "Didn't know you smoked," he said, his voice devoid of judgment but full of surprise.

Ryan didn't know what to say. All his friends smoked. He'd never thought of it as unusual.

"My father died of lung cancer," Ray said. "It's stupid of me to smoke, but I've been doing it so long I can't stop. It's too late for me now."

He gave Ryan a significant look. "It's not too late for you."

Ray took Ryan to the hospital to visit his mother one evening after work. "Hi, Mom," he said, as he bent down to give her a kiss.

The woman in the hospital bed was in her seventies and attached to several tubes. Any appearance of weakness vanished when her face broke out into a radiant smile. "Hello, Raymond," she said. "Who's this you've brought?"

Ray smiled, and this time the smile went closer to his eyes. "This is Dawn's son Ryan," he said.

"Hi, Ryan."

"Hi," he said, not sure what to do next. He couldn't shake her hand, since one was under the blankets and the other had an IV attached to it. So he stood there, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"Ray's told me about you," she said. "He said you're a good kid."

Ryan didn't know what to say. He wasn't sure he'd ever been called a good kid in his life. His mother sometimes said he was "the good one," but it wasn't hard to be seen that way when someone was comparing you to Trey.

"You need me to get you anything, Ma?" Ray asked. "Water? Food? Something to read?"

"Hmm." She paused to think "Today's paper might be nice," she said.

"Today's paper it is," he said, and left.

Ray's mother looked at Ryan. "Ray's a good boy," she said. "Your mother's lucky to have him."

As they were leaving the hospital, Ryan asked, "So you always been close with your mom?"

It was strange, the way questions like that sometimes came to him when he was with Ray. Before, it never would have occurred to him to ask a personal question like that, but around Ray they never felt awkward or wrong.

"No," Ray said. "For a long time I hated her. She was an alcoholic when I was growing up."

That wasn't the answer Ryan had expected at all. He remembered how Ray had said he'd had too many bad experiences with drunk people. "But you moved back here to take care of her."

Ray gave him a long look. "She's my mother," he said.

When they arrived at Ryan's house, they found the kitchen lights on and the table set. Dawn was standing there with an apron on, holding a spoon.

"I cooked!" she cried, with a bigger smile on her face than Ryan could remember seeing in years. "And not mac and cheese, either!" She indicated the plate in the middle of the table, which held a roast beef. Ryan also noticed salad, bread, and vegetables in bowls around the table.

Ryan's face broke into a grin to match his mother's. "Thanks, Mom!" he said, making up his mind to eat every bite regardless of how the food tasted.

Ray smiled, too, a wider smile than Ryan could ever remember seeing on him. He put his arms around Dawn and kissed her. "You didn't have to do this, hon," he said. "You've been great enough as it is."

"But I _wanted_ to!" said Dawn, beaming. "Come on, sit down and eat!"

They settled in at the dinner table, and Dawn started talking about her job at the doughnut shop, how much she enjoyed it and liked her co-workers. "I got so lucky," she chattered. "Great job and a great man in my life at the same time!"

By the time Ray left that night, Ryan realized with a start that he'd had never stayed at the dinner table that long after a meal before. They'd just had too much to talk about, and his mother hadn't been so happy in a long time. _I could get used to this_, he thought.

But he never got the chance.

A week later, Ryan got home from work and found his mother on the couch with a box of Kleenex, two long black streaks of mascara down her face.

The doughnut shop was closing. She'd lost so many jobs due to being drunk or absent, and now, when she finally had a job she liked, she had lost it through no fault of her own.

Ryan was reminded again of why he shouldn't let himself get his hopes up when he found an empty vodka bottle lying in the trash.

He picked it up and stalked towards his mother's bedroom. "Mom!" he called firmly, knocking on the door.

"Go away!" he heard his mother yell. "Leave me alone!"

"Mom, I need to talk to you _now_."

She opened the door and the sheer ugliness of what Ryan saw was just as bad as Dawn's appearance had been after some of her violent exes had gotten their hands on her. The large quantity of angles from which the blonde hair protruded from her head, the tiny distance between lids through which her eyes squinted, the droopiness of her jawline and the wrinkles on her crookedly-buttoned shirt made him angry all over again. He held up the bottle. "You said you quit! You said this was it!"

"I don't give a shit what I said," snapped Dawn. "I didn't know this was going to happen."

"Hard to find another job when you're drunk all the time!"

Dawn clenched her teeth and took a step forward. "You are fourteen years old. Don't you forget that!" She pushed Ryan just hard enough that he stumbled backwards. Ryan stood there, stunned, as the door closed in his face.

This was worse than the other times, he realized. It had been years since his mother had gotten physical with him—something she usually only did at her most depressed or frustrated. Losing something important to you solely due to circumstances beyond your control, Ryan recognized, was one of the most depressing and frustrating things that could happen to you, and the implications of the situation frightened him so much that he told Ray during their lunch break at work the next day.

"Can't you say something to her?" Ryan asked. "I think she'd listen to you. She won't listen to me."

"Of course I'll say something," said Ray, looking surprised that it was even a question. "Why do you think she'd listen to me?"

Ryan shrugged. "She usually listens to the men in her life. I don't know."

Ray's brow furrowed. "How old were you when your dad…went away?"

Ryan let out a short laugh. "To prison, you can say it. I was ten."

"Four years ago," said Ray, almost to himself. "And she's dated…how many men since then?"

Ryan shrugged again. "I don't know. A lot."

"She listened to all of them?"

"I guess," said Ryan. "They got her to stay with them even if they were hurting her."

Ray's eyes went wide. "Hurting her how?"

Ryan realized he'd said too much. "She's dated a lot of assholes," he said simply, hoping that would be the end of it.

It wasn't. "So you're saying she's been with more than one guy who's hit her?"

"Well…" Ryan began.

"Shit!" said Ray, more animated than Ryan had ever seen him. "You and Trey, too?"

Ryan's hesitation spoke for him. Ray looked at him incredulously.

"Shit," he said, louder. "Shit!"

In the car on the way to work the next day, Ryan glanced over at Ray. "So, uh…" he said. "Did you, um…ask…" 

"Your mom?" Ray asked, turning a corner. "Yes."

"Oh," said Ryan, waiting.

Ray sighed after a long silence. "She denied it. And she wasn't drunk when I asked her. But she said she hasn't had a drink in months."

"Oh," Ryan said again. He lay his head back against the seat, defeated. Of course she'd deny it. And of course Ray would take her side. Wasn't that the way his life always went?

They stopped at a stoplight. Ray turned toward Ryan and put his hand on Ryan's shoulder. When Ryan turned his head, Ray looked into his eyes.

"I believe you," he said.

The phone rang just as Ryan was about to leave for work one morning. Trey had been arrested again, this time for cocaine.

"I need you to come bail me out," he said to Ryan, who exhaled sharply.

"Dammit, Trey, I need to go to work!"

"You're the only one I know with any money!" Trey said. "If you don't come I'm going to be stuck here."

"Fine," snapped Ryan. "See you." He slammed the phone down as hard as he could.

He hadn't been this angry with Trey in a long time. He couldn't believe it. After all the effort he'd put into his job this summer, he was going to end up wasting his hard-earned money on Trey's bail.

He heard Ray's car pull into the driveway. Ryan let out a deep breath, then opened the door and walked out to Ray's car.

"I can't come to work today," he said. "Or I'm going to be late. I need to go bail Trey out of jail. He got arrested again."

Ray stared at him. "I'll drive," he said.

Ryan hadn't been expecting that. "But…you have to go to work!"

"Well, so do you," said Ray. "And you can't drive yet. What were you going to do?"

"Take…a cab, I guess."

"Hop in," Ray said firmly. "We'll just be a little late for work today. And I've been wanting to meet your brother anyway."

Ray insisted on paying Trey's bail, despite Ryan's protests. "Ryan," he said, "will you be rational here? You need the money you've been earning this summer. I can afford to pay this a hell of a lot better than you can."

When Trey emerged, he glanced at Ryan. "Hey," he said, then did a double take. "Who the hell is that?"

"This is mom's new boyfriend, Ray," Ryan said stiffly.

"Why the fuck'd you bring him?"

"He paid your bail!" snapped Ryan, losing whatever patience with Trey he had left.

Trey paused. "Oh," he said. "Um…sorry."

Ray shook his head and waved his hand. "Quite all right," he said.

After they'd dropped Trey off at his apartment, Ryan mumbled, "I'm so sorry."

Ray turned off the engine and turned to Ryan, putting a hand on his shoulder. "You know," he said, "I went to prison. My brother owns a construction company in Austin. He's been happily married for fifteen years. Two kids. And we had the same parents." He gave Ryan a long, hard look. "Strange how things like that work."

One Sunday morning, the phone rang again. Ryan answered. "Hello?"

"Ryan," he heard Ray say. "How are you?"

"Um, fine," said Ryan, surprised. He'd just seen Ray the day before.

"Can I, uh…" Ray cleared his throat. "Can I talk to your mother?"

"She's, um…" Dawn was currently passed out in her room. "…not around."

"Oh." Ray's breath was loud. Ryan got an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Ray," he said, "what's wrong?"

He could hear the tears in Ray's voice when he told Ryan that his mother had died.

Ryan spent the next few days stunned. People in his life were always leaving him, but no one close to him had ever died. He had no idea what to say to Ray, and the feeling of helplessness made him angry.

The day of Ray's mother's wake, the phone rang just as Ryan was leaving for work.

"Hey, little brother," came Trey's voice. "It's my court date today, and my ride backed out on me."

Ryan was not in the mood to deal with Trey. "And?"

"I need you to come pick me up."

"I don't even have my license!"

"Never stopped you before."

Ryan let out a long sigh. "Trey, Ray's mother died."

"Who?"

"_Ray_. The guy who got your ass out of jail? Remember him?"

"Oh. I'm…sorry."

"His mother died. The wake's today."

"Can't you pick me up before then?"

"No!" Ryan snapped, his annoyance ballooning into anger. "Get one of your friends to take you."

He hung up without saying goodbye. It was the first time he'd really stood up to Trey. It didn't feel nearly as good as he'd always imagined it would.

He took the bus to work that day, and, after changing clothes, to the funeral home. Dawn was going there, too, or at least she said she was.

He stood in line and shook hands, helplessly saying, "I'm sorry," to Ray and the people whom Ray introduced as his brother, sister-in-law, and nieces.

"Where's, uh, your mom?" Ray asked him. "She said she was coming."

"She i—"

Ryan heard a crash behind him. Before he even turned around, he knew what had caused it.

There was Dawn, in all her drunken glory. She'd knocked over a plant standing in the hallway and was now crouched on her knees on the floor, sobbing. A woman standing in line motioned to help. Dawn made a pushing motion with her hands and cried loudly, "Leave me alone! I'll do it myself."

"I'm sorry," said Ryan, mortified, to Ray and his family, then quickly went to his mother.

"Mom," he said, just as his mother burst into tears.

"I'm so sorry," she said, loud enough for the whole room to hear. "I fuck everything up, I'm so sorry…"

Ryan set the plant upright. Someone handed him a dustpan and broom, and he carefully swept up the dirt on the floor.

"Let's get you home, Mom," he said, keeping his voice low and nonjudgmental. Dawn continued crying. He found his mother's keys in her purse and drove them both home, mindful that he didn't yet have his license and shouldn't speed.

"Why did this have to happen now?" Dawn moaned. She was the worst kind of sloppy drunk—the kind who would babble at length about everything bothering her at the moment, regardless of whether or not anyone was listening. "I lose a job I actually liked, and now Ray's mom…so much bad shit happens that's my fault, but now it's all going to hell anyway. Things get fucked up whether it's my fault or not."

Ryan couldn't argue with her there. But he also couldn't bring himself to mention that the debacle at the funeral home was, in fact, her fault.

The day after the funeral, Ryan returned home from Theresa's via the back door to the sound of his mother and Ray arguing.

"You have no right to judge me!" Dawn shouted. "I just lost my job! I couldn't deal with anything else on top of it." 

"That's just your problem, Dawn. You don't deal. You just drink and hope everything will go away."

"You should talk! Which of us has been to prison?"

Ryan pressed himself against the wall, out of sight from his mother and Ray. He wondered if he could slip past them to his room, then decided that he'd just be listening to the argument from there anyway.

"Oh, that's rich, Dawn. You bring up my prison time when your own son was just arrested for drugs himself!"

"You leave Trey out of this!"

"You're the one leaving your kids out of this! How is it possible that you don't even see what's going on with Trey? How do you not even _try_ to help him? And Ryan—he's such a good kid, Dawn. You should see him at work. And you say he could be doing so much better but you never tell him how!"

"Says the man whose son won't even speak to him."

"I know I've made mistakes!" Ray's voice was louder than Ryan had ever heard it. "We've all fucked up, Dawn. We've all done things we're not proud of. But some of us move on and make changes in our lives. Some of us try not to collapse into bed with a bottle of vodka."

"FUCK YOU!" And there it was, the sharp slapping sound of Dawn's hand across Ray's face.

Ryan waited. Soon, he'd hear that same sound again, when Ray did to Dawn what she'd just done to him. Ryan would have to reveal himself and run in to protect his mother, just like always.

But the sound never came. Instead, there was a long silence. Then Ray's voice, saying very quietly, "I can't do this anymore, Dawn." Then his footsteps heading toward the front door.

Even the sound of the door closing behind him was quiet.

Ryan could already hear his mother's sobbing starting in the kitchen. Usually he went to comfort her in moments like this, but this time he had no idea what to say.

For years, he'd wished and wished that his mother would date someone who'd turn out to be a good guy in the end. He'd finally gotten that wish.

But the truth, he realized, was that Ray was too good for Dawn.

Ryan wasn't sure whether or not Ray was coming to pick him up for work the next day. He was contemplating taking the bus when Ray's car pulled into the driveway.

"Um… hi," he said, as he buckled his seatbelt.

"Hi," replied Ray.

They rode mostly in silence on the way to work. Finally, Ray said, "I need to, uh…get my mother's affairs in order. I…need to take a few days off. I won't be coming for the rest of the week."

"Oh…okay," said Ryan. "Thanks…for telling me."

For the rest of the week, he took the bus. But when Ray had been gone for a long time, Ryan started to feel uneasy. Finally, one day during his lunch break, he headed to a pay phone and called Ray's cell.

"Hi," he said. "It's Ryan. I, uh…I just wondered if you, uh…are coming…back to work."

Ryan knew by the uncomfortable silence on the other end that he wasn't going to like Ray's answer.

"I'm moving back to Austin, Ryan," Ray said. "I've sold my mother's house. My brother's giving me a job with his construction company. And there's…no reason for me to stay anymore."

Of course he didn't mean anything by those words, but Ryan felt a pang nevertheless. Ray seemed to realize how he must have sounded and quickly added, "It's been great getting to know you, Ryan." 

"Same…here," Ryan said, unsure of how much more he should say.

"Hey, you know what?" Ray said, his voice going up a notch. "I think I still have that shirt of yours you let me borrow that one time. You want to…come by and get it later?"

"Yeah," said Ryan, grateful to have an excuse. "Yeah, I'll…come by after work."

So he did. Ray had been staying at his mother's house, and there was indeed a "For Sale" sign on the lawn with a banner reading "SOLD" stamped across it. Ryan had barely arrived before Ray came out the front door, Ryan's old wifebeater in his hands. "Here you go," he said, handing it off.

"Thanks," said Ryan. After a pause, he added, "For everything."

A pained look came over Ray's face, and he nodded and headed back towards the house.

"Ray!" Ryan called, not even sure what he was going to say next.

Ray turned around. He looked straight at Ryan with unease. "I'm real sorry things didn't work out with me and your mom, Ryan," he said with unbearable sincerity. He turned around and headed back toward the house.

"Ray," Ryan said again, horrified to hear his voice breaking.

Ray stopped in his tracks this time. He turned around and walked back towards Ryan, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"DT Construction," he said finally. "That's my brother's company."

Ryan nodded. "Okay."

Ray nodded, too, and gave Ryan the same small, sad smile that didn't reach his eyes that Ryan had noticed the first time they'd met. "If you're ever in Austin," he said, "look me up."

The End

Feedback greatly appreciated.


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